


The Scarring Rest of the Story

by LadyMcKinnonKing



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMcKinnonKing/pseuds/LadyMcKinnonKing
Summary: Lord John and Brianna have a discussion about Jamie's scars over a cup of tea.





	The Scarring Rest of the Story

**Author's Note:**

> I can't help but wonder how Lord John would find out about Jamie's past and who would tell him. Because of the history between the two from Drums of Autumn, I think Brianna would be most likely give up the info. So here you go - I hope it's not crap. You could say I'm a long time reader, first time writer who loves this fandom and reading the time between the scenes type stories.

There was something about the way these damnable Fraser women unnerved him. They were back - Brianna and her family. Gone was his shock when Brianna wrote asking him to visit so she could better know her brother William. John knew it was time to attempt to mend a fence or two. Whether the first fence was between himself and Jamie, or between Jamie and William – it didn’t matter. It was better to hope for both, but he missed his friend.

However, not less than fifteen minutes in to his conversation with Brianna, he wanted to run for the hills. It would be a short trip, what with Fraser’s Ridge being located in the heart of the mountain wilderness. Could he run further without impediment? He had to admire Jamie’s drive. The Ridge was not nearly as wild as the last time he and Willie had stayed there. Much of the land had been cleared, tenants were active, and Jamie was every bit the laird he was supposed to be. Yet the mountain was wild, nonetheless. Almost as wild as this conversation.

With her cat-like blue eyes shining in mirth, Brianna closed the door to the cabin. Turning to face him, or face down at him, she laughed. “I’m intrigued. I’m sure you had a very good reason to marry my mother.” She spoke, mimicking his formal pattern of speech. “Whatever could it have been, John Grey!?”

He laughed self-consciously. “Do you know the story about your father and aunt perishing at sea?” She nodded in reply and he continued. “I learned Claire was to be arrested for espionage and I felt it was necessary to save her life. The sentence for sedition is hanging, no matter how useful one is to society. We were both happy to see him alive, though in hindsight I should not have mentioned the words “carnal knowledge of your wife” when he kidnapped me.” 

“Seriously? I do not want to hear this. Besides, I thought women weren’t your thing?”

“Your mother and I were married, child. It isn’t unheard of. I have been married previously, in fact. If necessary, I do know how to perform the duties of a husband. Besides, your father was dead - presumably.” He ended definitively and gave her a glare.

She scoffed, “You can hardly call me a child anymore. I’m surprised he didn’t kill you.”

“He made a rather good attempt; I’m happy to still be alive. I would have expected that reaction only had I pressed advances to him.”

“After what happened to him at Wentworth, that’s not an unreasonable expectation.”

His eyes knit together in confusion and Brianna knew she’d offered too much information. She hesitated, drawing her finger down her nose in a gesture making John smile. She was more like her father than anyone could know. 

He paused briefly. Not sure if he should press the matter, he continued, “I’m afraid I don’t know anything of his time at Wentworth other than the lash marks on his back. I assumed those were the results of his traitorous activities.”

Brianna hesitated. She wanted to scream out loud whenever someone mentioned her father’s “acts of treason”. Besides her mother and Roger, no one knew or cared that he had been forced into the life. The political games he’d had to start playing at such a young age at Leoch, how the Bonny Prince forged his name on the document declaring support of the “King Across the Water,” and Uncle Jared’s elation of his cousin the Jacobite soldier. How her father just wanted to be left alone and be the laird he was destined to be, yet people would not let him alone. What would John say if he knew the real story of Jamie’s involvement in the Rising? Would he be sympathetic or disbelieving? Never mind. If she was going to tell it, this part of the story alone was going to take a while. Better stick to one subject at a time. Heading to the fire, she wished (not for the first time) Lizzie was still her “little maid” as Da called her. She stared at the meager supplies. Cup of tea? Whisky? Both? Better to start with tea. There will be questions – splashing whiskey into the cup was easy enough once the tea was brewed. 

Once the pot of water was hanging securely from the hook over the fire, she turned back to Lord John and asked, “Have you ever wondered about the other scars of Da’s? Like the one that looks like a stigmata on his right hand? Maybe how mangled the hand is as a whole?”

At a look of inquiry and a nod from Lord John, she went on, “I’m not even sure Da knows I know about it. He’s never said anything directly to me, but Mama was there for most of it and told me what happened. She was sure I would never meet him and wanted me to know more about the man who fathered me.” Brianna gave John a square look, holding him with her eyes. “He was tortured by Black Jack Randall – physically, emotionally,” she hesitated, her voice lowering, “and sexually.”

The look of horror on Lord John’s face told her everything she needed to know about his relationship with her father. No, Da had never spoken to John about this. She was surprised when his eyes filled with wetness and continued.

“Black Jack Randall was a known sadist and he wanted Jamie Fraser. He wanted him and if he couldn’t have him willingly, then torturing Da until he got what he wanted was perfectly fine.” She snorted, “Sex and torture – sick. Either Da give himself to Black Jack, or he would have tortured both Mama and Da. That mark is from Black Jack nailing his hand to a table.”

Lord John exhaled sharply, “I was a young boy then, but we heard rumors concerning Capt. Randall. It was whispered he would torture prisoners for fun and get away with it. Some say he was protected, for he was never reprimanded for his actions. We were all warned to never be on his bad side.”

“Yes” she replied, “The Duke of Sandringham. Mama told me about Sandringham’s protection before I came here the first time. The man who raised me had found the information when doing some research about the Jacobites and Culloden.” John gave a short laugh. Fine, he still didn’t believe them. “Mama was also held captive by Black Jack once. That’s why she and Da were married. Black Jack beat her and threatened to kill her for being a spy.” She laughed at the realization of her mother’s propensity for being saved from arrest by marriage. Two out of three anyway. She continued, “It was several years before the Rising. Da was living at Leoch, the stronghold of the MacKenzies, where he was safe from being arrested by the English. Roger tried to find historical information to tell us more, but there’s not a lot about the incident. The English would roam around the Highlands raiding estates and crofts for supplies and sometimes the soldiers would force themselves on the women. A regular “rape and pillage” if you will.”

“These are not unusual stories my dear,” John quipped.

“I’m sure they’re not. Two hundred years have not changed the fact soldiers are seldom picky about how they treat the opposite side.” She was more than a little sad remembering some of the WW2 stories about Russians liberating the concentration camps in Germany. 

“Da was in the field, Aunt Jenny in the house. That’s when he heard her screams. When he got to the house, they had her in the yard, tossing her like a doll between them, trying to figure out who had the first go at her. Then Da stepped in and tried to stop it.”

John’s face gave a small smile. He’d witnessed Jamie’s protective side and could see the fearsome warrior rising in defense of his sister’s honor. Brianna continued. 

“They knocked him out and when he came to, he was tied up, shirt off. Black Jack had the whip in one of his hands. Aunt Jenny told me that was the first 50 lashes he’d had.”

Brianna swallowed with some effort and rose from her chair. “I think we can add a bracer to our tea now.”

Crossing the small room, she continued, “Aunt Jenny said the next thing she knew, Da was thrown into a wagon and she was dragged by Black Jack to the house where he attempted to get what his men wanted in the first place.” She gave a cynical laugh. “Unfortunately, it turned out he couldn’t “perform” unless his victim was scared. You know Aunt Jenny – she’s seldom scared.” John nodded and smiled. “Anyway, that’s the last she saw of Da for four years. Several days after that, Uncle Dougal told her Da had been flogged with more than 200 lashes and my grandfather had a stroke and died watching it. Da never saw my grandfather in the crowd and didn’t know his father had died until he was broken out of the prison.”

Back at the table, she opened the bottle and held it up. He had refreshed the cups with more tea and nodded when he saw her gesture. Brianna poured a generous amount into his cup, then did the same for herself. 

He hesitated before speaking. Finally, he asked, “Was that stay when he received the injury to his hand?”

Brianna gave a small laugh. “No, that was just the beginning of Black Jack’s obsession with Da. The rest of the abuse happened after he and Mama were married. They were living at Lallybroch and the Watch turned him over for the reward. Mama and a few of the Mackenzie’s broke him out of Wentworth. They and Uncle Murtagh went to France for a few months to recover. That was the second time he’d gone there to recover. First from an axe to the head, second from the torture.” 

John exclaimed “What?!” and she laughed. “His relationship with his Uncle Dougal was com-pli-ca-ted.” She enunciated each syllable of the word. “I don’t know the whole of that story, but from what I gathered, Dougal’s brother was never going to turn over leadership of the clan to a man who wouldn’t respect the status of the lairds. Clans are…” she hesitated in thought, “tanist I think the word is?” Unsure of herself, she looked to John for explanation.

“Ah, yes. I know this. Instead of a birthright determining the title, the Scots (and Irish, I believe) will choose from a male relation deemed best suited for the position. As Jamie’s mother was also a MacKenzie, he would have been a favorable prospect.” He looked thoughtful at the idea of Jamie being head of the Clan MacKenzie. Being laird of the whole clan was a large difference from being simple laird of Broch Tuarach. Then again, he thought to himself, how much difference is there from the Clan MacKenzie and Fraser’s Ridge? Most assuredly he was born to be a laird, even if the families under him owed not by blood, but respect. That’s what set him apart from other men: it was clear men followed him out of respect, not obligation.

“Yes, and Uncle Dougal was well aware of the meaning. More than once he tried to off Da so he wouldn’t be a threat to taking over the clan when Uncle Colum died. Anyway, that’s why he was in France to recover. It was on the way back to Leoch months later when he met Mama. You know where Creag an Dùin is in Scotland? Near Inverness? Well, those rocks are what allow us to travel.”

John laughed, still clearly not believing her story about the stones. “Yes dear. You have mentioned that before and no, I still do not believe you, but I also do not judge you.”

They both turned toward the door and the sound of raised voices and footsteps.

“Laugh if you want, John. How else do you explain our presence and knowledge of what’s to happen?” She looked away and grimaced. The sounds of footsteps and laughter were getting closer. “I took a risk telling you, but maybe this will help explain some of his reactions.”

John gave her a small smile and shook his head. “I assure you, my dear, I would never speak of this to your father, but I do thank you and I will be more careful with my words in the future.”


End file.
